In one fluid motion, almost too quick to be visible, Arai drew her own lightsaber, the familiar snap-hiss producing an emerald green blade.

"I am a threat to you, soldier," she said softly, "just as long as you are threatening my friend." She shifted slightly, moving her lightsaber from one hand to the other as her eyes bored into Mica. "You recognized Dom from a Republic watch-list, I'm sure. Even if they didn't have my image, they'd have my name with how I left the Jedi Order. Roll it around in your head a bit, soldier, see if it rings a bell. It's Arai. Arai Elan."

She turned her gaze to the young Jedi. "What of you, Jedi?" she asked. "Did your Masters tell you my story? Did they explain to you how the High Council tried to exile me? Have they admitted that I saw shatterpoints in even the members of the High Council? That I was able to manipulate those points, effectively turning the High Council into quarreling children as I made my escape?"

She scowled. "Of course they didn't!" she spat, her tone full of contempt. "My departure from the Order was their greatest failure since they lost the original Dark Siders. They wouldn't tell you my story, or of any other failure lest you begin to believe they are flawed."

She shifted again, putting her lightsaber back in her right hand, where it was most comfortable. "Let me ask you one question, Jedi. Do you trust the Order with your life?"